


You Were Right Here All Along

by RedCoral



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chef!Derek, Chefs!au, F/F, Fluff, Hale fire happened, Language, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Break Up, assumed infidelity (it didn't really happen though), but it plays a big role in the story, chef!Stiles, implied underage (Kate/Derek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCoral/pseuds/RedCoral
Summary: He opened his eyes and through the blur of his tears, he looked at his own hands where Derek was now holding him and said in a broken whisper, “W-What did you do?”--Because of what Derek did, Stiles left to Paris and didn't look back, not even thinking about all the ties he just cut. Now he's opening his own restaurant in New York and Derek's a three Michelin star chef, who Stiles finds necessary to warn of his arrival.Somehow that one conversation turned into much more and Stiles finds out things weren't what they seemed, neither when it came to the past, nor the future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> So, I watched Chef and Burnt one after the other, and this is the piece of work that was born. This fic is already finished, so the updates will be regular. There are 4 chapters in total.
> 
> The title is from the song Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. You'll understand in the end why.  
> There's a Marvel reference somewhere in the first chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or its characters. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The moment he stepped onto US soil Stiles felt an overwhelming sense of longing, longing for the past he ran away from a long time ago. He had to remind himself there was a reason he had done so. There was a reason he had ended up on the other side of the world where nothing reminded him of this place, of everything he had lost. Instead that place had become the turning point of his life, the place where he had gained everything; knowledge, experience, a life he enjoyed living. 

Then his boss had told him of this job in New York and everything changed once again. An itch had gotten under his skin and every second more he spent in Paris it was getting stronger and stronger. The need for escape had almost consumed him until he made his decision. Packing up everything and going to another country, another continent hadn’t been easy. It had been filled with panic attacks and doubt. He hadn’t been sure he was ready. He had almost given up three times. It would be okay, he figured. He’d quit his job, find another. People had been poaching him for some time now. But no. That didn’t satisfy the spark inside him which had ignited the moment he booked his ticket to New York. Saying goodbye to his friends there had been the hardest thing he had to do. He promised to keep in touch, but he had no great expectations. He knew the calls would be few and far in between, the visits even less.

Here he was though, trying to hail a cab that would take him to his new home. He hadn’t missed that part. Neither had he missed the cold and the snooping neighbors that peeped through the hole on their door the moment they heard his feet hit the floor. But he could deal with it, just like he used to do all those years before. The apartment had an open space once you got in – not a loft, Stiles never wanted to live in a loft again – a living room that had already been decorated for him. Lydia, he thought. She never did things halfway. There were two doors on his right, a stairwell next to the kitchen on his left. Stiles didn’t care about the other rooms. They were trivial to him. All he asked for was a good kitchen.

Lydia, as always, had exceeded all expectations. Where could he start? The black granite that made the island with the white high chairs right behind it? The knives and cutting boards placed above the far left corner? Lydia had thought about everything. It wasn’t a massive cooking space. No, that hadn’t been what Stiles wanted. Two people could easily pass through the aisle between the island and the main cooking space, like Stiles had asked for. The gas stove was a model of the latest trend as were all the other appliances. The cabinets where fully stocked with plates, glasses, pans of all kinds, everything he’d need. The white colors blended so well with the black details, like the island or the cabinets’ handles or the fridge or even the high chairs’ cushions. It all was way more than he had hoped for.

He was ready to call Lydia when the queen herself called him. He picked it up on the first ring ready to start blabbing about how perfect she was when he heard her voice. “Do you like it?” God, he had missed her voice. Seeing her once a year and talking to her through emails and skype with a shitty connection since international calls were just too expensive had not been enough. And Stiles didn’t miss his chance to say it. “Damn, I missed you.”

“Is that so? Open the door then.” Lydia said, and Stiles could hear her smirk until her words actually sank in.

“Wait. Does that – You’re here? Like here-here?!”

He knew Lydia rolled her eyes at him even though he couldn’t see her, “Just open the damn door Stiles,” she sighed.

Stiles was opening the door by the time she finished that sentence. Stiles couldn’t help but tackle her to the floor, protecting her head first, and hugging the life out of her. Lydia did the same, but still whispered in his ear, “If the eggs broke, I will hurt you. Badly.”

It was then that Stiles noticed Lydia had been holding bags from what seemed like a high-end grocery store, which were now sprawled on the floor next to them. Stiles didn’t bother getting off of her, until Lydia pushed him and he leaned back only to find her glaring at him. He pulled his hands back in a placating gesture, silently promising her no more manhandling. Wait. She said something about hurting, didn’t she? “So, you’re taking me shopping?” he asked as he stood up, offering his hand for Lydia, which of course she ignored with a huff. Shopping with Lydia was always hell. She wanted to go into every single store, try on everything she liked and she always ended up forcing Stiles into an outfit or ten.

“Yes,” She said once she was standing, straightening out her clothes. “I need a new lingerie set.”

Stiles held the door to the apartment open for her, “Are you sure you’re trying to punish me? Or are you ready to finally admit that my ogling actually turns you on?” He emphasized that with a ridiculous eyebrow wiggle. Shut up. Deep down Lydia adored his dorkiness. He will make her admit it one day, you’ll see.

Lydia rolled her eyes at him again, as if this was something that has been said repeatedly. It probably has. “You know you and I would never work,” she said as she strutted towards the high chairs behind the island and settled into one. “Besides, I think I miss a very important part of anatomy when it comes to your taste,” she smirked.

Of course, as a gentleman, Stiles had picked up the groceries and was currently placing them on the island, on the opposite side of Lydia. He looked at her then extravagantly from head to toes, with the sexiest gaze he could master, and winked, “You would look sexy with a strap on.”

Lydia just stared back at him as if she was already regretting her coming here. “You’re an idiot.” Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’ve got a date.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her and said in a poor British accent, “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.”

Lydia couldn’t say she didn’t expect something like that. Stiles had made them watch that movie almost as many times as they watched the notebook back in high school. Lydia couldn’t keep the almost smile from forming on her lips. They had been through a lot in all those years they knew each other, and Stiles had always been her only constant. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

Stiles shook his head. “Not one bit,” he grinned. He drummed his hands on the counter top as he asked, “Now what’s up?”

Lydia looked away for a moment, and then she squared her shoulders and faced the matter head on, “It’s a woman.”

Stiles looked at her, waiting for her to speak of the problem. Stiles had been suspecting for a while now that Lydia played for both teams. Some descriptions of random women had been a little too detailed and beautified for her not to be even one little bit interested in them. Stiles didn’t mind one bit, which is why he failed to see the issue here. “Oookay,” he said dragging the word out, “and?” he motioned with his hands for her to go on.

If Lydia had been any other woman, he would imagine she would have slugged her shoulders. However Lydia didn’t lose her posture as she said, “I’ve never gone out with a woman before.”

He noticed how she didn’t say ‘never been with’, but that was a matter for a later conversation. Stiles understood though, what she meant, but he still didn’t know what she was asking of him. He looked at her incredulously, “You know that just because I’m gay, that doesn’t mean I’m an expert in lesbian relationships right?”

“I just-” Lydia sighed, “I want to impress her, okay?” She obviously collected herself before she went on, avoiding Stiles’ gaze, “I’ve never felt like this before and I want it to last.”

Stiles snorted at that. “What? No more one night stands and breaking hearts for Lydia Martin?”

Lydia looked at him seriously then, “Not with her.”

Her voice held no doubt. She sounded a bit defensive actually. Stiles really looked at her then. This was not the Lydia he was used to. But it was the Lydia he always knew existed under that hard armor of a high IQ and an impeccable fashion sense. Lydia wanted to put her heart in this, something she had been protecting after every guy she dated used her for her body and never tried to keep up with her mind. “Wow,” Stiles blinked at her, straightening up as well. “It’s serious then.” He nodded to himself as he registered the information, “Okay, what do you want from me?”

Lydia avoided her gaze once again and Stiles thought she looked embarrassed. That was a rare occurrence. She said something, but it came out as a low whisper and Stiles didn’t catch it.

“What was that?” He asked, leaning forward.

Lydia took a breath first and looked at him in the eyes as she said, “I want you to teach me how to cook. She says her brother’s cooking is the best and if I could cook something better…” Lydia shrugged. God, this was too much wasn’t it? To cook for someone on the first date? It was not proper etiquette, right? She felt defeated right then. “This is stupid.”

Stiles saw her get up as if to leave and he rushed to her side, pulling her in his arms at first and then leaning back to watch her. “Hey, no. It’s not stupid. I think it’s a great idea,” he smiled slightly. “Through cooking we express ourselves, and you want to express how you feel. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he made her look in his eyes for that, waiting for the words to sink in, and when she nodded slowly, he let her go and moved around the counter to snoop in the grocery bags. “So you want to cook… lemon chicken breast?” he asked almost confused. He’d imagined a more gourmet meal for her to come to him. It wasn’t like she couldn’t cook. She just wasn’t a chef like Stiles.

“Something simple and elegant,” Lydia said. “Also, you’re the only one that can make it like the lemon’s infused into the chicken and not like it was dribbled on top,” she moved then to the other side of the island to help Stiles.

Stiles considered this, nodding to himself, and asked, “What about a side dish?”

“I was thinking of fresh pasta,” she said in a non-committal tone and Stiles knew something else was coming. He narrowed his eyes at her and asked, “You’re going to make them yourself?” He couldn’t stop the note of suspicion in his voice.

Lydia confirmed when she gave him a blind smile, and put the flour on his chest, thankfully not dropping it until he caught it. “No. You’re going to do it for me.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her playfully, “Am I now?” The truth was, he was happy to cook for her. But teasing her was almost always just as fun.

“Yes. I supposed that is your punishment for tackling me to the floor,” she gave him a dirty look at that which Stiles only returned with a grin. “If that’s the best punishment you can think for me, then Hell must be the only thing you fail at spectacularly.”

Lydia smirked at him, “I can think of a few things,” she said looking at him critically. “You’re still coming with me for shopping,” she said nonchalantly, checking she had all the products they’d need for the meal even though she had triple checked already.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile at that. It had been a long time since they had gone shopping. A little more than a year. He knew one would call him insane, because you know, Lydia and shopping is a terrible combination, but he couldn’t wait for it. He went to take his knives out of his suitcase, and on the way there he passed Lydia. He hugged for a moment, pressing a kiss to her hair, “Anything for my lady.” Stiles meant it.

 

* * *

 

They cooked and Stiles had to say Lydia was a good student. But she had studied a little too much on the recipe, which made Stiles stop for a minute, sit her down and explain that cooking was not always about following the book. Stiles rarely did. His recipes came out of his mind, his heart, his taste, his mood. The perfect mix came with balance, and not every book could offer that. Once, that was clear, the atmosphere was lighter, Lydia made her own special suggestions and laughed at Stiles’ ridiculous look covered with flour after the package somehow exploded on his face.

They were currently sitting in the living space of the apartment which was right next to the staircase and it was at the same time divided from the kitchen by it. The couches were comfortable, as if Lydia had known he would spend a lot of time here. There was a TV, but it remained switched off. They didn’t need it. They were laughing at crazy stories they told each other. Stiles told her about Paris and Lydia told him about the latest crazy event she had been asked to organize. It had been a theme wedding, The Walking Dead kind, but one of the bridesmaids refused to put on the make-up. The bride went crazy and tried to attack her and they both fell in the fountain right behind them. Unfortunately for them, the fountain was dry, as the whole set had a post-apocalyptic vibe to it. He even showed him the YouTube video as proof.

Lydia took a bite of her meal and moaned appreciatively, “This is amazing.” She grabbed her wineglass then and took a big sip, “And the wine. What is that? It’s perfect. I want it for the date,” she pouted.

Stiles laughed, he couldn’t help it. Obviously she had drunk a little too much wine. He felt pleased by her praise though. Back in high school that would have been a song in his ears, but now it just meant that he cooked a good meal, nothing more. “Now that you mentioned the date, I noticed how you said _you’ve never gone out_ with a woman and not that you’ve never _been_ with a woman before,” Stiles smirked at her.

If she hadn’t drank like two glasses of wine she wouldn’t be blushing the way she was at that moment. “It was just once,” Lydia said dismissively, but her squirming on the couch showed it was anything but unimportant and Stiles noticed.

“Just once? Are you sure?”

“I hope there will be more. Satisfied now?” Lydia said raising an eyebrow at him with confidence.

More. There was only one way for there to be more if she really was that serious about the date. It sank in and Stiles exploded in a fit of words and flailing “Oh my God! You slept with her and now you want to date her?! Couldn’t you buy her a drink first? Why are you leading the poor woman on? What did she do to you?!”

Lydia interrupted him, before he skipped onto a completely different subject in his rant. “I don’t want to date her for the sex. I mean it was amazing, though there’s space for improvement with practice, but you didn’t see her the morning after,” Lydia said with a dreamy look on her face.

Stiles snorted, “Yeah, if I had you would have slapped me or worse.” It had been a long time since Stiles had seen her look like that while talking about somebody.

Lydia didn’t bother answering him, but she went on. “She brought me breakfast in bed, Stiles,” she smiled like she was remembering the moment.

Stiles was confused though. “Uh, yeah. So have all the other douchebags you’ve been with.” What was special about her?

“You don’t get it. She brought me breakfast that her brother had cooked for her and shared it with me. And before you ask no, she doesn’t live with her brother. He lives in the apartment downstairs. And then we talked. She asked about me, Stiles. And not stupid questions like what color is you hair, but what do I study, what books do I read, what’s my favorite movie.” Lydia was looking at him as if she was willing him to understand.

Stiles did. It had been a long time since he had such an easy conversation with someone. It was a time he wanted to forget. Stiles hoped it didn’t end for Lydia the way it had ended for him; moving to the other side of the world. He didn’t tell her that. He understood how she felt at the moment and bursting her bubble, it wouldn’t do any good to either of them. Stiles looked at his lap as he tried to keep the memories at bay and murmured, “Yeah, I get it.”

As if Lydia knew exactly who he was thinking of, she gave him a sad look and said, “You know you have to talk to him, right?”

Stiles groaned. Sometimes he hated her knowing him so well. “Oh come on,” he leaned back on the couch, looking at the ceiling, “I cooked a perfect meal, if I do say so myself, why did you have to ruin it?”

Lydia waited until Stiles looked at her to speak. “Because you’re here and I don’t want you to run away again.”

Lydia always had the bad habit of calling him out on his bullshit and his mistakes. She was never one to chew things up for the sake of politeness. But she rarely talked about feelings, much less her own. Stiles sighed out loud, rubbing his hands on his face. Judging by Lydia’s tone this was not going to be easy. And she was right. He didn’t want to run away anymore either. “Fine,” he sighed.

“Good,” Lydia said. “Because I made reservations for us tomorrow at 7.”

Just enough time to drive himself crazy with overthinking things but not enough time to run. She really knew him, didn’t she?

 

* * *

 

To say Stiles was nervous was the understatement of the year. Stiles looked around him at the orange brick walls, the high ceiling where a three story chandelier was hanging, and the floor to ceiling of windows that were the first thing you saw as you walked in the room. On the far left, people could see the chef and his staff working, but no one had a view of what they were making. The tables were covered with white linens. The chairs had a black frame, but soft looking cushions. The cutlery and glasses were obviously measured and the napkins folded in an intricate design. The whole place had a relaxing atmosphere to it. Stiles almost whistled, but caught himself, thinking that the other patrons wouldn’t be so well-receiving of such action. He still whispered to Lydia as the maître d’ lead them to their table, “Wow, he went all out, didn’t he?”

Lydia glared at him over her shoulder. “Be nice.” Stiles pulled her seat out for her and then went to his own side of the table to settle himself. “It’s a prestigious restaurant and he’s really good at what he does.”

Stiles snorted. Lydia was glaring at him again. It seemed that it was going to happen a lot tonight.

“I’m serious,” she insisted.

“Fine,” he raised his hands, palms out, in defeat. “I’ll be nice.” Stiles saw Derek in the kitchen and he felt the anger he had been trying to channel all these hours, so that the longing he felt would back off, stir low in his stomach. He had his back to him but he would always recognize those shoulders. As if he felt being stared at, Derek turned around and froze. They locked eyes for a moment and it was as if the world held still just for them. There was something on Derek’s face, something that Stiles was too far away to recognize. A second later Derek was turning away yelling at some poor cook for one thing or another. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one angry. Stiles pointed with the glass of wine their maître d’ had brought for them to taste and said lowly, “I won’t make any promises for him, though.”

Lydia didn’t turn around to see. She knew who Stiles was talking about. She merely nodded with a smile to the maître d’ and smirked at Stiles, “Just wait until you taste his Herdwick Lamb to pass judgment.”

Stiles secretly fumed at that. It was one of the dishes he had helped Derek perfect back when they worked together among other things and Lydia knew that perfectly well. He didn’t reply, instead he mumbled to himself, “I promised to be nice. I promised damn it.”

Stiles did not order the Herdwick Lamb like Lydia said. He decided now was not the time or place for nostalgia. Instead he ordered something he had never seen Derek cook before, something with salmon in it. Lydia didn’t order the lamb either. Maybe she knew what it meant to him. The plates didn’t come alone, though. Of course they didn’t. Stiles almost sighed out loud, but that’s what they were here for, right? To talk to the chef. Well, it looked like their wish was granted sooner rather than later.

Derek was standing in front of them as the service placed their order on the table. He gave them a polite smile and said, “Lydia. Stiles. It’s good to see you.” It sounded almost formal, like Derek was trying to keep his emotions away from this conversation.

Stiles couldn’t tell if that was a lie or not and that hurt. Stiles had always been the one who could read Derek like an open book. Back then, when they worked together he had known when he was tired, frustrated or pleased. When he tried to hide or was ready to run away. Stiles always brought him back together. He was like glue, that’s what Derek had said. And now he was what? “Is it,” Stiles stated with anger he didn’t know where it came from.

“Stiles,” Lydia scolded him. She had every right to. It had been years for his anger to burn so bright, but here it was.

Derek shook his head gently and smiled at Lydia, “It’s okay. I didn’t expect the sentiment to be returned.”

Somehow that hurt even more. “You didn’t expect the sentiment to be returned,” Stiles deadpanned, glaring at Derek. Why wasn’t he angry? Didn’t he feel anything about the past? Didn’t he have anything to say about Stiles being here in his restaurant after four years of no communication? Didn’t he feel anything at all at his presence? Because Stiles did. And he hated that.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him as he said, “Do you blame me for that too?”

Stiles closed his eyes at the onslaught of memories. Does he blame him for that? For being polite? Because let’s be honest here, that’s what he was; polite. It wasn’t good to see Stiles. Not after the way things ended. Lydia’s voice pulled him out of his inner monologue and Stiles opened his eyes only to find her standing next to them. She looked at both of them intensely and said, “I’m going to freshen up. Do not kill each other.” The first thing Stiles’ mind came up with was, _I would never hurt him._

Derek took Lydia’s seat. Stiles took a breath to calm down. If Derek was going to be a professional about this, then so was Stiles. They had both grown up since the last time the saw each other; they knew what civility meant. “Look,” Stiles started, “I’m here to just give you a heads up that I’m in town. I found my home, Derek.” As he said that, Stiles felt it was the truth. It was his second day back, and Paris had been a huge part of his life, but here was where he belonged; in New York close to the people he loves doing the job he’s been born to do. Stiles sighed as he said, “I guess I don’t want to be chased away from it again.”

Derek looked away at that. He tried to stay calm but Stiles could see there were emotions stirring under his façade, emotions he wanted to hide. “You kicked me out.” Derek said it like it was a fact.

Stiles had a different opinion. He leaned forward on the table – he didn’t want to be overheard – and hissed at him, “Did I? Or was it the landlord because you were too busy fucking the whore you were paying with our rent money?” Stiles was furious. He had said some horrible things, that much was true, but he had had a reason to say them. Derek had no right to play the victim card here. He saw some people looking at them curiously out of the corner of his eye and leaned back. He fidgeted with his napkin as he said, “Look, I’m not here to revisit the past.” He looked him in the eyes and went on, “I’m here out of courtesy. I didn’t want you to find out about me when my reviews are better than yours and accuse me of stealing your clientele,” Stiles smirked at him.

Derek smirked back and said, “You talk a big game, I’ll give you that.”

Stiles scoffed. “Now you’re insulting me. You know when it comes to business I always told the truth.”

Derek smiled sadly, “Yes, it was our relationship you had a problem with.”

Stiles froze and looked at him. What hit him the worst was that Derek wasn’t bitter, or angry. He had simply resigned to the truth and now he was just sad. Stiles gulped and said, fumbling with the tabletop, his eyes following his hand’s movement, “Turns out we were both shit at that, doesn’t it?” It was time for Stiles to resign to the truth too.

As if she sensed a big moment was happening here, Lydia showed up smiling at them, “I see you’re still alive.” She looked gorgeous. Just like she had before she left for the freshening up she definitely didn’t need.

Stiles cleared his throat twice and said, “We’re fine,” looking at any place but Derek.

“Right,” Derek said and got up immediately from the seat. “Enjoy your meal.” He turned to leave, but Lydia stopped him.

“Don’t you want to hear about our thoughts on the salmon? I’ve never had this dish before.”

Before Derek could answer, Stiles snorted and pointed out, “He’s a three Michelin star chef. He doesn’t need our opinion.” Stiles froze once he realized what he just said. He looked up at Derek and found him looking just as surprised as Stiles himself was. Stiles looked away in hopes to hide the blush that was definitely rising on his cheeks.

“I’d like to know, if you don’t mind,” Derek said. Lydia smirked mischievously and Stiles held back from pointing his tongue at her. Instead, he picked up his cutlery and tried the dish. Oh my God, this thing was orgasmic. Stiles couldn’t even begin to identify the flavors that were attacking his taste buds. He just wanted more of whatever this is. He didn’t say any of it of course. “It’s good,” he said simply.

Lydia agreed with him. Sort of. “Excellent as always, Derek.”

Derek smiled at her, “Thank you. Forgive me, but I have to go back to my kitchen.” And just like that he left and Stiles was glaring at Lydia. It didn’t really move her though.

“Had a good talk?” She asked unimpressed.

“The best,” Stiles answered sarcastically. “We talked about the time we got evicted. The best of all? About the time he was busy cheating on me. Good times. Really good. Even better when he basically told me I was so far from his level I shouldn’t have bothered to come here. Do you want to know the moment I really loved?! It was the moment I realized both of us screwed up in the past and somehow an emotionally-stunted man has moved on and I haven’t! What the hell, Lydia?!”

Lydia looked at him with a blank face, which was what she usually wore to hide her concern. “Do you want to leave?” she asked and Stiles knew she would get up demanding her coat without a second thought. But Stiles was done running away. Just because it hurt seeing him being in his element, hating that it used to be theirs, even if there were some revelations, Stiles was staying. “No,” he said, “just don’t leave me alone again.” The _'_ _with him’_ went unsaid.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been five days since he saw Derek. Stiles just got a call that his restaurant’s opening day was going to be delayed by a week. He was supposed to be opening in three days. Now it went up to ten. He had met his staff, the people he would be working with. That had been fun. Seeing Scott again after years of being apart took his breath away in a good way. It wasn’t awkward or weird. They fell right back to who they were before Stiles left where Scott couldn’t follow. He was glad to have someone he trusted fully in the team. They texted each other every day now. In fact, Scott was coming over tonight so that they could cook together. Just like when they were young and they liked to experiment by mixing things no one would think to mix and tried for the best outcome possible, which in their case meant something edible.

He was bored. He had planned to go to the restaurant for a while, familiarize himself a bit more with the space, but they told him no one was allowed under the head of construction’s orders. He couldn’t stay doing nothing. If he did, he would start thinking and that was a no zone. So of course he grabbed a glass of wine and a cheese palate he had already prepared out of the fridge and what did he do? He started thinking. Maybe he should have reconsidered the wine.

The memories he had tried to keep away during his conversation with Derek were now pushing at him, playing over and over again without his permission the worst day of his life.

_He was tired, exhausted, barely standing on his feet. It had been a difficult day at the kitchen and Derek had been a no show. People asked him where he was, but Stiles had no clue. He didn’t come home last night. He thought he’d stayed in the kitchen like he usually did when he needed to clear his head. But when he arrived at the restaurant in the morning and Derek was nowhere to be seen, Stiles took a deep breath, kept the anger and worry out and went on with his day. He just got to his floor when he saw a woman waiting outside his door. Whatever she wanted, Stiles was sure he wasn’t ready to deal with it. He squinted his eyes at her and asked, “Can I help you?”_

_Her head turned towards him and a huge mischievous smile formed on her lips. She was barely ten feet away and Stiles could see the woman was gorgeous. But the expression on her face… Something felt wrong here. “My name is Kate Argent,” she said, strutting towards him. Stiles started to say he didn’t give a damn, but she was already there before he uttered a words, stopping him from doing so with a single finger to his lips. “I’m just here to give you this,” she smirked as an envelope appeared on her other hand. “I’m sorry,” she pouted mockingly. “But I’m really not,” she smiled that mischievous smile again. “You couldn’t hold him down, could you?”_

_Stiles was looking at her confused. Dread was filling in his stomach. He knew there was only one_ him _she could be referring to, but he refused to believe it. “What are you talking about?” He was glad his voice didn’t shake for once._

_“He said he could never commit to you.” She looked at him from head to toe, “Now I can see why.” She laughed then, “You basically handed him to me on a silver platter.” She touched his cheek gently with a finger, but somehow it felt like a threat. “Thank you for that,” she said as her finger travelled slowly down his face. She turned to leave then, before she stopped abruptly like she just remembered something. She pointed at the apartment door and said, “That was here before me, by the way.”_

_“What?” Stiles asked confused, the time freezing as he saw what was on the door._

_Kate didn’t answer. Instead she laughed as she walked away._

_Stiles ripped the paper out of the door and got in. If he slammed it shut afterwards, he didn’t really care. He stood there in the middle of the loft he shared with Derek and stared unblinkingly at the paper he was holding. It was an eviction notice. Surely there must have been a mistake. Derek was supposed to have paid the rent days ago. He would call the landlord later and settle this._

_The envelope was burning in his hands. He was terrified to open it, afraid of what it contained, dreading what he may see. What the woman said outside, it seemed like… But no. Derek wouldn’t do that to him, wouldn’t say those things about him. They had been in a committed relationship for the past three years and nothing some random woman said could change that. Stiles loved Derek, and Derek loved him in return._

_So why was he so scared to open it?_

_Was it because he hadn’t seen Derek in almost two days? Just a text saying ‘I’m fine. I love you’. That’s all. Was it because Derek for the past two months, after his parents’ death anniversary had been getting more and more distant? Stiles thought it still hit him hard. It was as if Derek was moved back in time on that day and watched his family die unable to change the outcome. It was always difficult the next couple of weeks. Stiles found that out the hard way during their first year together. But it never lasted this long. Derek came home later than he was supposed to or didn’t come at all. Sometimes he was gone long before Stiles woke up in the morning. He usually called and they talked for like an hour and maybe more. But Derek’s absence was like a knife to the gut. He had asked him where he was, what was going on during those phone calls, but every time he mentioned it, Derek shut down. So, Stiles stopped pushing. Whatever was going on he would tell him when he was ready._

_Was this envelope related to what was going on? Did he even want to find out?_

_He did. He deserved to know. He turned the envelope around a couple of times. There was nothing written on it. Nothing could be seen through it either. His hands were shaking. His breath was coming and going fast. The fear was coiled deep inside and it wouldn’t let go. He took a deep breath, tried to control it for a moment, but he knew the longer he stalled, the worse it would get. So he faced the envelope the right way and opened it slowly._

_There were photographs in it. A bunch of photographs with Derek and… and that woman. He took them out and as his mind caught up with his eyesight he lost his breath. His legs gave out, his knees hit the floor harshly, but Stiles didn’t feel the physical pain. His heart was constricting in his chest and it didn’t let him breathe. One photograph after the other, the black spots were getting more and more until he could see nothing but darkness. Stiles looked at them one by one until they were all over the floor surrounding him as if they caged him inside their circle. But they did. Stiles couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were burning. His eyes saw nothing but the photographs reflected in his mind one after the other, like a short movie Stiles couldn’t stop watching._

_Bombs were going off in his head, but Stiles couldn’t stop watching. Someone was banging something but Stiles was lost. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything but Derek talking to the other woman, being in her arms, her head on her shoulder. He couldn’t stop seeing Derek sitting close to her on the couch, watching at her as she laughed, stood immobile as she touched him in a way only Stiles had been allowed to so far. The back of the last photograph kept flashing in between._

_“ <3 Kate. Call me if you want company ;) Derek sure does”_

_A phone number and a price was all that was listed after that. She was an escort for fuck’s sake. Derek was so unhappy with Stiles that he went looking for everything Stiles couldn’t give him elsewhere. Stiles was suddenly aware of what Derek had done. Derek had… he had given himself to someone else, while he made promises to Stiles that he was the only one; only one he loved, only one he wanted, only one he would cook for for as long as he let him. It had all been a lie. Three years of his life just demolished and thrown away in the span of seconds._

_He knew he was struggling to breathe. He knew he couldn’t stop the tears from running down his face; he didn’t even try. His whole body was shaking; he couldn’t control it. Until he realized somebody was shaking him. Suddenly his senses overwhelmed him. Derek was shouting in his ear his name again and again, shaking him repeatedly, trying to get a response out him. He was so close his smell hit him like a freight train. What used to be a sense of comfort now was a prison he wanted to escape. He opened his eyes and through the blur of his tears, he looked at his own hands where Derek was now holding him and said in a broken whisper, “W-What did you do?” Stiles flinched away as if Derek’s touch was burning him. If he could feel anything physical at all, it would have. He scrambled away going as far back as he could until his back hit the foot of the bed,_ their _bed. “What did you do?!” He screamed._

_Derek was moving towards him, treating him like a wounded animal and Stiles couldn’t have that. “Don’t,” he warned, “don’t come any closer.” Derek stopped. “It’s not what you think,” Derek said. “She- I didn’t- it’s fake. I wouldn’t- I’d never. She staged this. It’s not what you think,” Derek said._

_As Stiles watched Derek struggle find his words a cold feeling overcame him. “Was it worth it?” Now his voice was strong, demanding. Derek looked at him and Stiles didn’t want to analyze that look. “Was she worth it?!” Stiles yelled._

_“Stiles, it- nothing happened. I didn’t- How could you think-?”_

_Stiles laughed. He laughed loud and harsh. “How could I think?!” he shouted. “Oh, jeez, Derek! I wonder how! How about the fact that I haven’t seen you in two days?! How about I can’t even remember the last time I fell asleep next to you! How about the fact that it’s been months since you last touched me! How about we got evicted because you were too busy spending the money fucking the first whore that threw herself at you!” He threw at him the eviction paper and watched at it landed as slow as a feather in front of Derek._

_At the sight of it, Derek just… slumped. There was no other words to describe it. He took the paper in his head and sighed. Without looking at Stiles, Derek asked, “Is-Is that what you believe?”_

_His voice was broken and Stiles couldn’t understand why. Maybe he was sorry he got caught. It didn’t matter. “It’s not what I believe Derek, it’s what I know!” he said, pointing to the photographs surrounding him. Stiles was heaving after all that yelling and Derek was quiet, still looking at the paper in his hands as if it burned his hope alive._

_A few minutes passed before Derek said, “I wasn’t the only one who lied, you know.”_

_What? Stiles was confused. Was Derek…was he crying?_

_“You promised you’d never leave me. I guess you were wrong.”_

_“Oh, fuck you, Derek!” Stiles said angrily. He couldn’t believe this. Stiles was the one who wanted to commit, who had wanted to spend his whole life with Derek and he still did even if it hurt like a stab wound to the chest to even look at him, and he was the one who left him?! “Fuck you! You have no right to use my own words against me when you weren’t man enough to tell me to my face it was over! What did you do instead, huh? You lied and lied again and again, told me,” Stiles took a breath until he was able to get the words out, his voice breaking, “told me you loved me. Why? Why, Derek?!”_

_Derek didn’t say anything. He stood there and watched as Stiles yelled at him. Derek’s eyes filled with tears, something breaking inside of him at what he saw. Something died between them that day and Derek felt it first._

_Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek was just standing there. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself! His expression broke something in Stiles. He was sure it was one that would haunt him for the rest of his time. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was done. It was over. “Get out!” Stiles yelled at him. Derek didn’t move. “Out!” he screamed until his voice was hoarse._

_Derek left and didn’t look back._

_Stiles collapsed, sobbing on the floor, breaking down by himself as the reality set it. Even though he was alone, he kept seeing Derek everywhere; in the abandoned coffee mug on the coffee table Derek didn’t want to buy, in the book left on the armchair that was too big for their loft, in the messed up sheets on the bed they used to share, in the kitchen they used to cook together. Stiles couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t live there._

_Three hours later he was boarding on a plane to Paris. Stiles left. As he looked back, no one was there to stop him or wish him luck. He was alone. So, he left._

 

* * *

Stiles was up as something rang in his ear. Turns out it was his phone which he slept on which was ringing incessantly. Stiles jumped, squinted his eyes at the screen, but in his sleepy and possibly buzzed haze he didn’t care who was calling, as long as it just stopped ringing. He picked it up, mumbling a “what” at whoever was one the other end of the line and sat up on the couch. He opened his eyes properly and found his glass of wine on the floor, the bottle laying down right next it. The carpet was stained. God, Lydia was going to kill him. Speaking of whom, she was currently talking in his ear.

_“Stiles are you listening?”_

“Yes!” Stiles said a little too loud, even for his one ears. “Yes, I’m listening.”

 _“I just asked you if you’re free for the weekend,”_ Lydia said almost impatiently.

 Stiles could imagine her with a hand on her hip and tapping her foot. Stiles almost laughed. Instead he said, “Yes, I’m free this weekend.”

_“Good. You’re cooking for one of my events.”_

Stiles started to protest, “Lydia I told you-” but Lydia didn’t let him finish.

_“I want you to find me another chef for the same weekend.”_

Stiles had specifically told her that he wasn’t coming back to work for her. No events, no TV shows, just his own restaurant. Apparently Lydia didn’t care much about that. Stiles sighed, “Fine. I’ll call Scott.”

 _“No,”_ Lydia said, _“not Scott. I need people who will come once they hear his name. Like, say a three Michelin star chef we both know of?”_

“Lydia, no.” Stiles could imagine the fake innocent face Lydia was probably wearing right now.

_“Lydia, yes. I’ve told you that should be your motto in life. You need to tell him by Wednesday.”_

“Why can’t you tell him?!” If anyone asked, Stiles _did not squeak._

_“I can’t be in two places at once, Stiles. I’m busy. This event is not as easy as I thought.”_

“Everything is a piece of cake for you,” Stiles insisted.

_“Well, not this. You have reservations tomorrow for one under O’Donell. Do not disappoint me Stilinski.”_

Before Stiles could protest and say there had to be no disappointment involved if she only chose someone else for the job, Lydia had already hung up the phone.

 

* * *

 

Lydia sighed as she hung up the phone. She didn’t think it was going to be this hard. She wouldn’t have even gotten involved if it hadn’t been for that night at the restaurant. She had watched them the whole time she was supposed to be in the restroom. They still loved each other. They still hurt from being so close yet so far away. She had hated watching them wasting away all those years. Suddenly two arms around her waist brought her out of her thoughts. She leaned back into the touch, and closed her eyes. “Are you sure this is the best way to go about this?” the woman’s voice said in her ear. Turned out, the date went splendidly.

“Yes.” If this is even a fraction of what they had, Lydia knew there was only one way for them to both be happy.

“But it’s killing you to lie to your best friend.”

Lydia shook her head, “He’s killing himself by staying away from his it.” That’s what Stiles used to call Derek, his ‘it’. And Derek had loved it.

 

* * *

 

Scott came over later that night. They talked, they laughed, they cooked like the old times using literally everything Stiles had in his pantry. Lydia had arranged the grocery shopping, so that was a lot.  They ended up ordering pizza after they both took a bite out of BroSciles Meal No.523698 and almost threw up. Stiles had a great red wine that fit perfectly with the pizza.  They were now sprawled over the cinema room upstairs having just finished watching Doctor Strange. They were both Marvel geeks. Sue them.

“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” Scott asked, rubbing his belly, looking all content.

Stiles smiled at the offer, but, “I can’t. I have to ask Derek about some event for Lydia.”

Scott stopped all movements then and frowned, “Derek? As in Derek Hale?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at him. Scott has always been protective. And after what happened the last time, Stiles couldn’t blame him. Though, he sometimes wondered why Scott didn’t blame Stiles for not keeping in touch. “Yes, Derek Hale. Why?” He asked when he saw Scott was still frowning.

“I don’t like it,” Scott pouted. “I don’t trust him.” The _for what he did to you_ went unsaid, but Stiles heard it loud and clear. He looked away, because Scott was wearing the puppy eyes and Stiles still didn’t know how to resist them. Scott would probably want to talk about feelings, but Stiles has had enough for one day, thank you very much. “Yeah, neither do I, but it’s Lydia.”

Scott cracked a smile then, obviously taking the hint he wasn’t ready to talk, and said, “Man, I always thought you’d end up with her or something.”

Stiles laughed. He laughed like he hadn’t in a long time. Willingly, truly and freely and a moment later Scott joined in.

 

* * *

 

Stiles couldn’t believe he was once again in Derek’s restaurant. Just like the last time he was in awe of the décor. He hadn’t been kidding when he said that Derek went all out. It looked like a place businessmen came to eat, but still had a homey feeling to it. He went to the maître d’ and said, “Hello. I’ve booked a table under O’Donell, for one,” he fidgeted a bit with his jacket’s sleeves. He didn’t want Derek to see him yet. He didn’t know if he wanted to see him at all, not until he was ready. He interrupted the woman in front of him, “Is it possible to get a table without view in the kitchen? I want to be surprised by my dish,” he smiled. Stiles knew his request didn’t make sense, neither did his reasoning for it, but the maître d’ complied and led him to a table while the service took the remaining cutlery back.

He was given a menu that was completely different from the one from last week. Stiles frowned down upon it because it was filled with ingredients Derek had always been frustrated to cook with, but always pleased when they came out right. Stiles knew from experience Derek had a love-hate relationship with cooking these dishes. He didn’t overanalyze it though. He was already nervous enough; he didn’t want to add other complicated emotions to that mix. He ordered what he thought was best and one glass of wine and waited for his chance to sneak into the kitchen. The maître d’ rarely let the customers into the kitchen, they always brought the chef outside and this wasn’t the place to have a conversation like that. He wanted them both to be in their element, a setting they were both mechanically professional in; the kitchen. Stiles tried not to think how that was also the place they were the most vulnerable in.

He finally got the chance when a customer started complaining for some reason or other and while the maître d’ was trying to calm him down, she called the service too, to bring him another meal. He probably wouldn’t pay for a thing.

Stiles slipped into the kitchen and stood next to the wall, away from the windows. Derek hadn’t noticed him yet. God, he forgot how good it felt watching Derek work. It was mesmerizing. He watched Derek move around, check what the other cooks were doing, correcting their stance if he had to, giving them advice to make what they were cooking better. He was on his way to the pass when he noticed Stiles, leaning against the wall with a smirk at being undetected for so long. Stiles watched as Derek ordered a cook to go to the pass for him and was left speechless when the guy all but ran there.

“Wow, you got them potty-trained too?” Stiles asked, stealing an olive that was on the counter next to him. Hey! It was right there! It’s not like they’re going to miss one olive.

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, though Stiles could see a smile fighting its way on his face. When Derek realized it too, he put on a blank expression. “Stiles,” he said polite as always, “What are you doing here?”

“Lydia’s organizing an event and wants two chefs. You in?” He stole another olive. He liked olives okay?

Derek knew that too which is why he took the bowl with them away from him. “Take Scott.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, let me rephrase. She wants two Michelin awarded chefs. You in?”

Derek looked at him with a raised eyebrow again. “And she couldn’t tell me herself?”

Damn, that eyebrow got a lot of action, Stile thought. Focus Stiles. You don’t care how much action Derek gets or any other… parts of his body. Oh no. That just made it worse. He gulped and shrugged as he said, “I thought I’d extend an olive branch.” Stiles knew Lydia’s excuse was bullshit and Derek would too. Getting things done was Lydia’s specialty after all. So he went for this from another angle because he could see Derek wasn’t getting convinced. Stiles didn’t want to analyze why he wanted Derek to be convinced in the first place. “I told you. I’m here to stay. And unless you want the tabloids to have a field day with us being at each other’s throats – that’s how they’ll paint it, trust me – we need to work together.” Okay, maybe Stiles’ trysts in Paris had gone a little out of hand sometimes, but that didn’t mean he wanted such fate to follow him here. Stiles didn’t care about his trivial past relationships, but what he and Derek used to have was not for the public eye. In fact, none of his private life is for the public eye. “So,” Stiles motioned at him with his hands to speak, “in or out?”

Derek looked at him skeptically, “Aren’t you opening your own restaurant?”

Stiles shrugged, “It’s under construction.”

Derek sighed as if he was defeated, “Fine.”

Great. Stiles could see from now this would go awesomely. Not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we know now why they broke up. The question is... is that what really happened? What are they going to do about it?
> 
> To be continued soon...  
> -RC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I'm sorry it took so long to update! The Word on my computer malfunctioned and I couldn't open any of my documents, so I couldn't update this. But now I can, so here it is!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or its characters.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

It was weird working with Derek again. Not a bad weird, not really, but a kind of weird that made him reminisce those moments in the past, where they were happy and they hadn’t screwed up everything yet. However, as much as Stiles longed for those moments, Derek was like exactly the opposite. He was completely professional, like Stiles was just another chef, nobody he had ever had particular feelings for. Stiles could see how tense he was. He felt it when Stiles accidentally touched him, Stiles’ chest to Derek’s back, as he tried to get something from the other side of the counter and not burn the sauce he was cooking at the same time. He felt it when Derek had to get close to him because the kitchen they were working in had narrow aisles and they accidentally touched the other here and there. At some point, Stiles had touched Derek’s arm. It was an unconscious move. It was something he used to do a lot back then, when they were the only ones in the kitchen not necessarily dressed. It was nothing sexual. Stiles only looked for comfort. At least he used to. Now he had done it mechanically.

But Derek still froze. His joints locked up, Stiles thought he heard them do so, and Derek didn’t move. He didn’t look at Stiles either. Just waited until Stiles’ hand was gone. The chicken he was frying got overcooked and thrown out. Derek didn’t address the moment between them and neither did Stiles. Stiles just cleared his throat and took a page out of Derek’s book. He ignored Lydia’s critical gaze and went on working as if Derek was just another chef, nobody he had ever had particular feelings for.

It was like ten hours after they started, everything was ready, everyone out in the garden was having fun and enjoying the food while Derek and Stiles had a little fun of their own. They made their own dishes with the ingredients they had left which had definitely set the mood in a higher setting. It actually happened when Derek creeped up on Stiles at some point and Stiles jumped so high, the pans they had already washed fell like dominoes on the floor. Stiles groaned but Derek laughed so hard he bent over. Stiles scoffed at him with a, “Yeah ha-ha. Laugh at poor Stiles, creeper Derek. Why don’t you clean some potatoes, huh? Do something useful,” but he couldn’t really stop smiling.

Derek saw it too, and nudged his side. Stiles turned only to find Derek a little too close to his face. His breath caught, but Derek didn’t seem to notice the minimal distance between them, or if he did, he didn’t seem to mind as he said, “Come on, it was funny.”

Stiles bit his lip to keep from smiling, “No, it wasn’t.”

Derek got even closer at that, making Stiles’ breath hitch once again. “Not even a little bit?” he asked with an innocent face on.

Who was this and what had they done with Derek Hale? Stiles didn’t know, but damn it, Derek looked adorable like that, with the puppy hazel eyes and the innocent face and his everything that was too close to Stiles’ own and… ugh! “Fine!” Stiles relented, “it was. No go clean those potatoes!” he ordered pushing at Derek’s chest. Wow. That was a lot more solid than Stiles used to be familiar with. Stiles didn’t analyze why he remembered the feel of Derek’s chest under his hands.

Derek didn’t notice Stiles’ inner battle regarding his muscles, but he started cleaning those potatoes smiling a real smile, not a smirk, neither a grin. A full-teeth megawatt smile specialty of Derek Hale.

They were currently sitting at the steel counter, having pushed everything away to make room for their plates. They were sitting on high steel stools opposite each other, sharing stories from when they were younger, stories neither of them had heard before. Stiles was just finishing one from when his dad had first found out about his high cholesterol and Stiles had tried to make him a salad that consisted of boiled carrots and potatoes. “Oh my god,” Stiles said, extravagant as always, “I kid you not,” he flailed the fork around while Derek tried to avoid getting stabbed in the face with it or something, “I was like fourteen years old and I could cook a mean lasagna, like it was really, really good,” he moaned appreciatively at the memory – man, no one had asked him to cook lasagna in a long time, -  “but I couldn’t boil a freaking carrot!”

“What? “ Derek laughed. “How could you not boil a carrot?! You just put water and carrots and let them boil!”

Stiles pointed at him and said, “I know right?! I don’t know what I did wrong, I swear!” He threw his hands up in a defensive position, but he was laughing with Derek who was laughing at his expense. “Seriously, I never told you?” Stiles smirked.

Derek smiled sadly and Stiles realized what he just said. Derek looked down at his almost empty plate as he said, “No, you never did.”

The silence this time wasn’t awkward, but it was contemplating. They both got lost in their thoughts for a few minutes. There had been a lot they hadn’t told each other back then. Derek had told Stiles so many stories of his past that Stiles had never heard before. Granted, Derek had never been comfortable talking about his time with his family and this was the first time Stiles saw him talk freely about them, but he wondered, if he didn’t know these stories, how many more had Derek kept for him? If he hadn’t, would they still be together now? Or maybe would they have been able to mend what broke between them? It made him wondered if they had really learnt from their mistakes, or this was merely politeness between colleagues after a long day of working together.

Derek was the one who broke the silence this time. “Are you going for your third star?”

Stiles looked down, moving around whatever food was left in his plate. To be honest, that hadn’t been a dream of his. It had been a dream of Derek’s and Stiles had promised to be there every step of the way with him. Just another promise he broke. Stiles hadn’t really thought about the third star for himself. Even his second star had been by chance. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Should I?”

Derek spoke without hesitation, “Yes.”

Stiles looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew Derek. Maybe he was a different version of that Derek, but he knew him. And the more he learnt about this new version, the more he wanted to stay. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Stiles was falling for Derek again. At this point, he didn’t even know if he ever stopped. In Paris he had tried to stop, that’s all he ever tried to do; to forget the one person that could bring him back. But now he was here on his own volition and he didn’t know where they were standing with Derek. He didn’t even know where he wanted to stand with Derek. His mind was all about Derek. It shouldn’t be. Yet, it was. Stiles looked at him again and the words fell out of his mouth before he even knew he wanted to say them, “You’re better than me you know.”

Derek shook his head, “I’m not.”

“But you are!” Stiles insisted, his fork clattering on the plate as he threw it in silent frustration. Derek was surprised at the sound and the emotion he was expressing, but Stiles didn’t let it deter him from what he had to say, “I always knew that, I always accepted it, I’m good at mixing things and making something edible,” he said pointing at himself, “I’m comfortable in the kitchen the way I’m nowhere else. But you…” Stiles shook his head and looked at him with wonder just like he used to before, “you are at home in the kitchen. It always fascinated me. There were times when you were making breakfast for us to bring it to bed and I would pretend I was asleep just to watch you a little bit longer move with a finesse I’m never going to have.”

Derek looked at him for a long moment after that, letting the words really set in before he said anything. “You never told me you felt that way,” he said finally, his tone carefully blank.

Stiles shrugged, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. You being better than me is just a fact.” Stiles knew what he had said was big. He knew he gave Derek a piece of information regarding their time together, something Derek didn’t really know. It was a big gesture for him, more than a simple olive branch and just like any other big moment, his defense mechanism set in and sarcasm and overconfidence got in the way. “ Just as me still kicking your ass at salmon dishes is. Seriously, are you ever going to learn?” he shook his head at him. Thankfully, Stiles had cooked the salmon dish today.

Derek grinned warmly at him and said, “If I had a good teacher maybe…” Derek trailed off and Stiles tensed. Derek couldn’t mean him. He couldn’t. He wasn’t ready for that. Before he started to panic, Derek went on, probably picking up on Stiles’ emotion, “but I don’t. So, probably not.”

Stiles hated how that grin had turned into a self-deprecating smile even though he was the cause of it. “Maybe you’ll find someone,” Stiles said and he wasn’t sure if he was talking about a teacher or someone else.

Derek looked away. “Yeah, maybe,” Derek said, but he looked doubtful.

 

* * *

 

Stiles’ restaurant opened today. The whole event was a party organized by Lydia. Stiles had only taken care of the menu and given advice on the wine that would match each dish best. During the whole ordeal Stiles was busy talking to people he had never met before, receiving congratulations that from some seemed to be fake. He accepted it all humbly, regardless. He kept looking around hoping to catch Derek’s face in the crowd. He kept trying not to look as disappointed as he felt every time he wasn’t there.

He tried to make time for his friends, though. He had noticed that Lydia had used her plus one and he couldn’t wait to meet the woman that could wrap Lydia around her fingers. Stiles liked her already because of it. He finally found a small opening to corner Lydia and smirk at her, “So, I saw you used your plus one. Where is she?” Stiles asked excited, clapping his hands.

“Right here,” a woman said behind him. Wait. He knew that voice. That was… Stiles turned around and his suspicions were confirmed. Cora Hale. Derek’s little sister. She was holding champagne glass twirling it around her fingers. Cora looked almost nervous for some reason. She had an awkward smile on her face just like Derek’s. Stiles froze, his expression stayed blank. Lydia must have seen something because she immediately came in his line of vision standing next to Cora and said, “Stiles, I’m sorry. I should have told you but I-”

“Does she make you happy?” Stiles interrupted. Yes, Lydia should have told him. She had been so dead set on keeping the woman’s identity secret, Stiles thought maybe he didn’t know her, or maybe he simply had heard of her. Either way he didn’t care about who she was because Lydia was smiling for real in years and that was all he could ever ask for for his best friend. Why didn’t Lydia see that?

A soft smile took over Lydia’s face, “Yes, she does.”

He stepped closer to her and hugged her. “Then it’s fine. I promise.” Stiles parted with them after leaving a kiss on Lydia’s forehead and simply saying, “we’ll talk about this later,” without really looking at either of them.

The rest of the evening passed with Stiles not really knowing how to feel. He didn’t feel betrayed. He still trusted Lydia, he just couldn’t understand why she didn’t trust him with this. He knew he had a complicated history with Cora’s brother, but she had never been involved. From the first moment Stiles met Cora, his opinion of her hadn’t changed no matter what happened. He was still intimidated and completely fond of her. Was this because Lydia was afraid Stiles wouldn’t approve of Cora? Or was she walking or eggshells around him because of his past with Derek? Either way, Stiles needed to fix this.

He was in the kitchen putting away the last things they had used. His staff had worked hard and had done an excellent job for their first official day, so Stiles had told them to go home when the orders stopped coming. That’s where Lydia found him later that night.

“All the guests left,” she said. Cora was not far behind her. Stiles nodded his hands in acknowledgement and Lydia sighed at his silence, “Stiles…”

Stiles decided on what he wanted to say and didn’t let her finish. He walked towards her as he spoke and he hated that wariness in her eyes. “I don’t want you to think that you can’t trust me, okay?” He was standing now right in front of her and Lydia was looking at him waiting for whatever came next. Cora stood a couple of feet away ready to jump into Lydia’s rescue, but giving the two friends the space they needed to figure this out. “Whatever is going on with me and Derek, everything that happened between me and him, will not change what we are.” He couldn’t keep the emotion out of his voice. He needed Lydia to understand. They had gone through so much together, fought every obstacle that tried to push them away from each other and they had done so for a reason. “You’re my best friend, Lydia.” He stepped even closer, hardly a foot between them. He could see Lydia tearing up and he didn’t like that. This must have weighed her down all this time. It shouldn’t have. “I just want you to be happy with someone that deserves you and loves you just as much as you love them, okay?” Lydia nodded silently, and Stiles went on with a smile, “From what I saw, Cora fits that description, so I’m happy for you.” It was the truth. He had watched them all evening and Cora seemed to be in tune with Lydia’s moods and needs. She was always there or some steps away if Lydia needed to be by herself. But Lydia was never out of Cora’s sight.

Cora was the one who broke the silence that followed, “God Stilinski, I didn’t remember you being so emotional.”

As if she was waiting for Cora’s voice, Lydia hugged him tight, and whispered in his ear, “Thank you.” When she leaned back she was beaming and the tearful eyes were gone.

Stiles clapped his hands excitedly, “Now come on. I have left something very special to celebrate with.”

He moved towards the steel counter where a tray was covered. Cora moved towards one of the stools and as she took a seat she snorted, “What, no ‘if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you’?”

Damn, she was so much like her brother. Maybe that’s why Stiles was so fond of her. “Nope,” Stiles said, making a popping sound at the end. “If you hurt her, Lydia will take care of it. I’ll just help hide your body,” he smirked as he revealed what the tray contained.

“If this is strawberry, I’m letting that comment go,” Lydia said as she took a seat at the head of the table next to Cora, Stiles on her other side.

Stiles grinned, “It is. It’s a strawberry cake with banana mousse, actually. I’ve been working on it for a while.” He has been trying to make this right for months. He thought this time it worked.

Cora frowned at him though, “Strawberry and banana? Together? Doesn’t seem like a good mix,” she said skeptically.

“That’s the point,” Stiles shrugged. “Anything can be mixed as long as the balance is maintained.” He could see Cora was still doubtful, so he cut her a piece first. “Here, try it.” Stiles waited for Cora to eat a bite and at her surprised expression he smiled like a loon; it really worked.

“Okay, you can have a piece, I’m taking the rest of it with me,” Cora announced, trying to get the tray towards her, but Lydia intercepted her with a “over my dead body.”

Stiles laughed at them and took a piece of his own. Let them fight for the rest of it. He could always make more for himself later. “So, now to tell me, how did you to meet? I want to hear the whole story!”

Lydia gave him a look like, _are you dumb?_ “You introduced us.”

“Indulge me,” Stiles said, smirking.

Lydia kicked him under the table, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

“Yes,” Stiles agreed with a grin, “you’ve told me. Repeatedly might I add. Now the story? Pretty please?” He tried to make the best imitation of Scott’s puppy eyes that nobody could really resist. It took a while but Lydia finally relented, “Fine. So, you know…”

And that’s how they spent the rest of the night. For once, Stiles wasn’t bitter about hearing of another couple’s successes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I apologize for the delay. I honestly thought I had posted it until I went to my works and I was, like, wait, where is chapter 4?
> 
> I'm sorry, I got roped into a new fandom and yeah... It's philkas (Eyewitness US) if you know it, or if you don't, you can check it out, I guess?
> 
> Anyway, here is the final chapter. I hope you like it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles hadn’t seen Derek for two weeks. In those two weeks Stiles hadn’t thought about Derek for like a minute in total. He hated that Derek hadn’t shown up at his restaurant’s opening, or even the days following it. He heard from Lydia that he was busy doing some promotion stuff. Stiles couldn’t decide if Derek had loaded his schedule on purpose or not. Okay, he hadn’t gone to Derek’s new restaurant either, something he had had no idea was on the works, but it got amazingly popular fast. According to a magazine Lydia left for him it got him up to six Michelin stars.

Stiles looked at the cover of the magazine. It was a close up of Derek in some kitchen leaning on the counter. The title of the article caught his attention for some reason, “Derek Hale a house-designer as well?!” Stiles shrugged to himself. It’s not like he had anything better to do. He found the page the article was on and started reading.

_Derek Hale is widely known for his good looks and his bad boy persona. When he’s not in an apron, he’s wearing a leather jacket, black aviators and he never forgets his biker boots. However, did you know that his appearance is not the thing people remember him for? Derek Hale was recently awarded with three more Michelin Stars, making that six in total, after the opening of his new Restaurant, Omega. However, this a man of many talents. I recently found out he designed his own house and I had the great honor of seeing it up close._

_C: So, what does three Michelin Stars feel like?_

_DH: Honestly? It hasn’t really sunk in yet. All I know is that last week I opened my new restaurant, Omega, and people had an overwhelming response to it. I didn’t even considered any awards when Omega opened. I just cooked._

_C: Has the new restaurant affected the one you already had?_

_DH: No, not really. I was really lucky actually, because the place behind my restaurant shut down and I was able to start Omega there. So now there are two restaurants with two united kitchens and I can be in two places at once._

_C: Wait, you mean the two restaurants are connected?_

_DH: *laughs* I get that a lot. Yes, they are connected, but they are two completely different restaurants. One is quiet and elegant, while Omega is vibrant and alive. It even has live piano music every night. They are two sides of one coin._

_C: That is impressive. What made you go for that?_

_DH: Someone told me I’m a better chef than I think. This is to tell him that so is he._

_C: That person must be really important for you, if you opened a new restaurant just to show him that._

_DH: *smiles bashfully (yes, he really did!)* Yes. He is._

_C: Okay, let’s talk about this house._

_DH: What do you want to know?_

_C: Well, everything would be preferable, but why don’t we start with a description of it?_

_DH: Okay. Well, this house was obviously not designed for one person, even though I’m the only one living here. On the top floor there is a master bedroom and three more bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a playroom. At the moment the last one is filled with a home cinema and favorite movies of mine. On the main floor, other than the swing on the porch and the bamboo set, there is a big living room with a lot of open space. There’s a medium sized kitchen. And there is a dining room that can hold up to fifteen people. It also has a garage for at least two vehicles._

_C: Wow, that’s a big house. Were the colors your choice?_

_DH: I just chose what calms me down. My favorite color is black, but sometimes it can be depressing, so I chose colors that remind me of home, like beige, brown and gray. The bedrooms are all painted differently. There’s burgundy, light green, teal and slate gray? *laughs* I don’t know, that’s what the color palette said._

_C: You designed all this yourself?_

_DH: I did. But I didn’t design it on my own._

_C: Care to tell us the name of the co-designer?_

_DH: I don’t know if he’d really want me to tell you, so sorry, I can’t._

_C: That’s okay, we won’t push. But you know this house does not scream single, right?_

_DH: *laughs* Yeah, I know._

_C: So? Is there anything you’d like to tell us? About anyone special in your life?_

_DH: There’s always been someone special in my heart, even if he hadn’t been in my life for years. I built this house back in 2012, but things happened and now I’m the only one living here._

_C: You said, he hadn’t been in your life. Does that mean he’s in your life now?_

_DH: Kind of? I mean, he’s back in New York, but I don’t know what’s going to happen._

_C: Do you want something to happen?_

_DH: *laughs awkwardly* Only if he’s ready to forgive me._

_C:Well, I hope he will._

_Then I went on to thank him for agreeing to have this interview with me. Honestly guys, he was such a sweetheart! I was really clumsy at first and I fumbled with my words, A LOT – I mean have you seen him?! – but he was so patient with me and did everything to make me feel comfortable. Someone’s stolen our favorite chef’s heart as you saw. Whoever you are don’t let him go, unless you know what you’re letting go of, okay?_

_I wish both Derek Hale and his heart stealer (whoever you are!)  the best! Even if it doesn’t work out, we still love you!_

_Don’t forget to check out Derek Hale’s new restaurant, Omega. Pick up your phones, because I hear reservations are closed for this month! Will you be the lucky one?_

There were photographs too, and Stiles turned page after page looking at Derek’s house. No, it couldn’t be… He saw the beige couches that were not leather because Stiles never liked that squeaky sound they made once you sat down, the one brown wall in the living room and black and gray little statues and vases that showed how perfectly Derek and Stiles’ personalities fit together.

He saw the kitchen’s beige cupboards and cabinets that looked vintage with the brass handles that Derek had at his childhood home and Stiles wanted to give him that, and the granite counter and island that Stiles’ mother had loved at their own house.

He saw the bedroom, a king sized bed right in the middle of the burgundy wall, with a trunk at the foot of it that was decorated with throw pillows. Both of these were in front of an electric fireplace, because Stiles didn’t want to burn real wood.

He saw two joint sinks in the master bathroom, because Stiles always dreamed of waking up in the morning together, spending as much time as possible with each other, something that could probably lead them to the shower for a quick make out session in the morning, or in the bathtub for a relaxing evening with champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries.

He saw the porch swing that back where Stiles’ mother would have him and his dad sit there and tell them stories about how the constellations came to be as they looked at the stars. He saw the bamboo set that Derek had loved as a child, because his mother made him hot chocolate and sat with him there in silence when he needed it the most.

He saw everything he and Derek had dreamed of, everything he and Derek had created when they whispered things to each other in bed, or when they dreamed as big as their minds would allow for the perfect home; the perfect life together. Derek said he built that house back in 2012… But that meant…

No. That couldn’t be. There must be a mistake.

The bastard. He couldn’t have… Not like… He couldn’t. He didn’t.

Stiles was suddenly furious. Before he even knew what he was doing he was putting on his coat and was out the door, down the street hailing a cub still gripping the magazine in his hands, fuming all the way to Derek’s house.

He couldn’t believe Derek would go behind his back like this. Not when it came to this; the only memory Stiles had held onto that wasn’t rotten by bitterness.

 

* * *

 

Next thing he knew Stiles was throwing bills at the cab driver and running towards Derek’s house. Even the exterior was everything they’d ever wanted. Stiles punched the door repeatedly ignoring the brass bell that Stiles used to be fascinated with when he was a kid. He kept on punching the door until he could hear Derek running down the stairs and threw the door open with such strength, Stiles would have worried he ripped it off its hinges. He didn’t particularly care at the moment. He didn’t wait for Derek to let him in. He pushed his way inside, slamming the door in his wake, and threw the magazine at Derek demanding to know, “What is this? What the fuck is this?"

Derek was so surprised he almost didn’t catch it, but he was still confused. Very much surprised yes, but he had no idea why Stiles was here, what made him so angry. “What? Stiles, what are you” Stiles didn’t let him finish. He just shouted over him and pointed at the booklet in his hands, “The magazine, Derek! What the fuck are you saying there?!”

“I-” Derek tried to explain, apparently, Stiles wasn’t done talking yet.

Stiles stepped closer to Derek, pointing a finger at his chest as he tried to keep his voice down, “Do you know how I felt when I saw that? Do you know how it felt to see in a freaking magazine the house we dreamed for us?! Like, what?! What are you trying to prove, Derek?”

Derek shook his head, took a step back to put some distance between them. Derek had no idea what Stiles was angry at. The house, what he said in the interview, what? “I’m not trying to prove anything. What are you” he was interrupted once again when Stiles threw his hands in the air and raised his voice, “What then? You thought it’d feel good to rub in my face everything I ever wanted in my life and I can’t fucking have? What were you thinking Derek?!” He just couldn’t understand how Derek could betray him like that. He missed Derek, okay? He freaking missed him and he was thinking about him and their night working together and how maybe there was something there. But he didn’t know Derek had built their dream home, _without Stiles_ , brought people here _that weren’t Stiles_ , let them in that bedroom, in that bed and lied with them, _where Stiles had never gone._ How could he?

Derek raised his arms then, palms out and walked closer to Stiles, “Stiles, I can explain-” Stiles didn’t let him explain.

“Explain what?” He was so angry every word Derek said just made it worse. “Explain how you broke my heart, cheated on me, got me evicted and chased me away from my own home?!” He felt the betrayal digging into his stomach sharper than a minute ago. “Explain how after three years of being together - three whole fucking years Derek! -  you suddenly decided I wasn’t enough for you? Or maybe-”

Derek couldn’t take this anymore. He had heard those words again and again, he had replayed them in his mind all those nights he cried himself to sleep. He had seen those words flashing before his eyes at every sip of whiskey he took, heard them again as he saw every one of Stiles’ dishes he made. He had enough. That was enough. It was enough to make him yell louder than he ever had before, “Will you fucking listen for once!”

Derek was met with silence. Stiles was gaping at him, panting for breath after his long rant, but he wasn’t saying anything. Derek pulled himself together and asked, “Just once. Listen to me, please.” Stiles nodded and sat down on the arm of the couch to give him his full attention. Derek did the same on the armchair. “I never cheated on you,” he saw Stiles open his mouth to protest, but Derek hurried to explain, “Kate was lying. She cornered me on a meeting at the hotel we had with the head chef, the one you missed because you were sick,” Stiles nodded. He remembered that day. It was the day before it all crashed down. Derek went on, “Yes, she threw herself at me, but I was trying to push her away. I didn’t know she took pictures. I never looked at her Stiles.” Derek closed his eyes as if something was playing in his mind that Stiles wasn’t allowed to see and Stiles couldn’t have been more right about that. Derek opened his eyes and Stiles was surprised to see them filled with tears. “She was the one that-” he looked away for a moment, but he braced himself and looked at Stiles, “She burnt my family alive, Stiles. How could I?” His voice broke and Stiles finally understood what he meant.

Stiles knew the fire happened when he was sixteen. He never said more than that he trusted the wrong person and got his family burned alive. He had told him that person was older but Derek thought he should have known better. And as suddenly as the truth was revealed, it all clicked in Stiles’ mind. “What? Shit.” Stiles was horrified. He was horrified at what Derek had been going through all this time, about what Kate had done to him. He was horrified that he believed her, she who tore Derek apart at the age of sixteen and turned him into the quiet, guilt-ridden, angry person Stiles had known him as. “Derek, I-I didn’t know.”

Derek shrugged, “I never told you.” He hadn’t been ready for that. It took him a long time to decide that he needed to talk to someone impartial, someone who wouldn’t judge or if they did, they’d keep it to themselves. “They caught her. But she got out on parole due to good behavior. Bunch of bullshit,” he scoffed looking at the floor. His eyes found Stiles’ once again as he said, promised really, “That was the first and last time I ever saw her since the fire. And that’s why I didn’t come home and missed the next day of work, too. I couldn’t… I was terrified she’d show up there or worse.” He was terrified she would find out about Stiles and hurt him too. He shook his head at his train of thoughts and went on, “And then I came home to find you shaking and crying and barely breathing with all those photographs around you and I knew…” Derek knew Stiles was gone then, that it was over, that Kate took him away just to watch Derek shatter into a million pieces. He didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “I knew what she had done. And I hated myself for not coming home that night, for not talking to you. And then you…”

Derek didn’t dare say it, they both knew what happened next. But still… “All those late nights and early mornings, those phone calls but no shows, what…?”

Derek smiled sadly, with regret, “I was building this house for us. I was supposed to ask you to move in with me that week before the eviction notice, but the cleaning crew was a little late. I planned to ask you that day.” The regret was not about building the house. It was about not telling Stiles the minute he started building it, or even the minute he decided he wouldn’t pay that month’s rent, or maybe even when he got away from Kate that night filled with dread that she was going to take Stiles away from him. Well, she did. Didn’t she?

“Okay,” Stiles nodded. That was a lot of information. “Oh my God.” It was a lot to wrap his head around, to push away all he had believed for so long and replace that with the truth. “Okay.” But he had to. Because they had lost so much time, so much time they could have spent together, trying to build something concrete, something that would have led them to live together in this house. “Ooookay,” he said once again. “That is a lot to take in. I need to think.”

“Take all the time you need,” Derek got up as if to open the door and when Stiles noticed he snapped at him, “I’m not leaving, you idiot. Just let me think.”

Just because Derek was telling the truth, just because Derek hadn’t cheated on him, that didn’t mean he didn’t hurt him. It didn’t erase all those hours Stiles had stayed awake worried that something had happened to Derek, scared that something big was going on, something that even after three years, Derek didn’t trust Stiles enough to tell him. When it all came crashing down, Derek had just stood there, having already given up and Stiles just couldn’t understand why when he had done nothing wrong. So he asked, “I just… Why didn’t you defend yourself? Why didn’t you say something? You let me all this time believe that you cheated on me. Why Derek? Oh my God, Oh my- I accused you of- I yelled at you, screamed at you and accused you of … oh my God, you must hate me. Do you hate me? Of course you do. You should. I’m so sorry, Derek. I’m sorry. If I had listened, if I had…”

Derek stopped his pacing by getting in his way and touching his arms. “Hey, hey. Stop,” Derek said gently. Stiles didn’t shake Derek off, so Derek counted that as a win. He sought his eyes and said, “I don’t hate you okay? I never did.” But to be honest… “Maybe a little bit at first because you didn’t even let me explain, but I know you, Stiles.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles said, a hand still in his hair out of frustration during his latest rant, the other on the air trying to decide if it was going to touch Derek back or not.

“You’re stubborn to a fault.” Yeah, unfortunately Stiles was. And… “We both know when you believe something, it’s almost impossible to change that. I had only my word and you needed evidence at that time. And you believed, Stiles. You believed that I had…” Derek paused, unable to utter those words.

Stiles was horrified at the fact. Derek couldn’t even say it and Stiles had accused him of it for years, again and again to justify his walking away.

Derek looked at him sad and resigned, and without hope as he said, “You were gone long before you packed your bags. There was nothing I could do to stop you.”

A few moment of silence followed as Stiles realized that Derek was right. No matter what he would have told him at that time, unless he showed him a video of him pushing Kate away and exposing her as the offender that she was, Stiles wouldn’t have believed a word. He still would have yelled. He still would have pushed Derek away. He still would have run away. There was only one thing Stiles needed to know now. “Did you mean what you said in the interview?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“About what?”

Stiles gulped as he looked at Derek’s eyes looking for something, a slimmer of hope, of longing, of anything he could grab and hold on. “About me always being in your heart? I mean, you were talking about me, right?” Stiles for a millisecond thought this was all a big misunderstanding until Derek nodded and Stiles got the courage he needed to go on with asking, “Do you really want another chance at this, with me?”

Derek answered carefully, as if he was still guarding himself. He didn’t think Stiles would hurt him, but after all these years, it had become a knee-jerk reaction for him. “I meant what I said. Only if you’re ready to forgive me.”

Stiles looked and searched those hazel eyes and he saw what he used to see once then. Love, devotion, awe, fear; exactly what he felt about Derek himself. He loved his kind heart, he was devoted to him and supported the life he wanted to lead, he was in awe of the pain he had survived, of the pain that didn’t crash him, but instead made him stand right here in front of him, he was afraid to lose him, afraid of what would happen if Derek slipped his hold again. And all that could only mean one thing, “I already have.”

The only thing Stiles heard next was Derek’s breath as Derek leaned in closer and closer until another sound reached his ears. Before Derek’s lips could come in contact with his own Stiles laughed softly, “Did you seriously have the radio on all this time?”

Derek gave him a deadpan look as if he wanted to say, _Really, Stiles? Of all times, now you notice the music in the background?_

Stiles laughed at Derek’s face but insisted, “But listen!”

“Music relaxes me,” Derek said, but he focused like Stiles said and listened to the song Mirrors reach a very important part. It was true; yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery and all Derek wanted to do was keep his eyes on Stiles.

Stiles smiled at him as if he was thinking the same thing about Derek. He wrapped his hands around Derek’s neck and said, “I didn’t even notice it.”

Derek grinned teasingly at him, “You were too busy yelling for that.” Maybe that was too soon, because when he said it Stiles looked at him as serious as Derek had ever seen him look.

“I know. And I’m sorry. It’s just that” Stiles closed his eyes, and went for the truth, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since the night we worked together and you didn’t even come to my restaurant’s opening and I didn’t come to yours either because I didn’t know and… wait.” Stiles opened his eyes to look at him as the rest of the interview came to mind, “Did you open Omega because of me?”

Derek smiled at him, glad that he figured it out, just like he thought he would. “Yes. You are better than you think.”

Love, devotion, awe, fear. “I love you,” Stiles breathed and he knew it was the truth.

“I love you too. Always have,” Derek said as he leaned his forehead against Stiles’.

Stiles looked at him. He was so close he could count his eyelashes. He could pinpoint the green in his eyes, the little bit of yellow and brown mixed in there. Those were the eyes he wanted to look at every morning and every night before he slept. “I want us to live together in this house one day, you know.”

Derek touched Stiles face with his hands, leaned in even closer, their lips touching but they weren’t kissing. “I’d like that.”

“You would?”

Derek could feel Stiles smile against his lips. He didn’t say anything. He had waited enough for this. Four years to be exact. And he didn’t want to wait another moment. He leaned in that last millimeter and kissed Stiles like he never thought he’d get to kiss him before. Like he wanted to the moment he found out he had ran away to bring him home, like he wanted to every day since then just to let him know he missed him, he still cared for him, like he wanted to the first time he saw him in his restaurant to tell him he could come home if he wanted to, like he wanted to after that stupid story with the carrots, or after he told him he was better than he thought.

They weren’t fine just with a kiss. This wasn’t a fairytale, not by a long shot. They were going to talk about things, bicker with each other, fight, yell, shout. But for once they were going to fight _for_ each other, for what they had. They would accept they couldn’t leave without the other. There were going to be moments where giving up would cross their mind. “It’s not giving up,” Stiles would say, “it’s giving _in_ to the inevitable.” And Derek would kiss him the only way he knew how; with love, devotion, awe, and fear and Stiles would respond with the same. Eventually, Stiles would give his restaurant to Scott, give him his chance to reach the dreams he thought he wasn’t good enough to achieve and Stiles would officially take over Omega. He would work with Derek, he would fight with Derek, he would get angry at times. Derek would always bring him back to a calm state.

They needed to work on this, but they were going to make it. Derek knew that. Stiles had a gut feeling.

They made it. They were home.

 

(Lydia took credit for it when she found out. Derek and Stiles knew it was all on them.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the angst and here's why the title is from the song Mirrors. What did you think? Was it anything like you hoped for the story to end? 
> 
> Leave Kudos or comments and tell me what you thought if you want :)   
> Thank you all for reading and staying with me even though the updates were not as regular as I planned :)

**Author's Note:**

> So, any opinions? Did you like it? I hope you did. How do you think Stiles and Derek's relationship will turn out?
> 
> Here's [my tumblr](http://puddingwillbeouralways.tumblr.com/) if you're interested :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! To be continued soon...  
> -RC


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